


In the Stacks

by adreadfulidea



Category: Mad Men
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreadfulidea/pseuds/adreadfulidea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She came in every tuesday between four-thirty and five o’clock in the evening. He would see her crossing the floor briskly, bright hair and bright work dress a spot of colour in the sedate surroundings. She always walked quickly, as though she were heading someplace very important."</p><p>Lane/Joan Library AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Stacks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildcard_47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/gifts).



She came in every tuesday between four-thirty and five o’clock in the evening. He would see her crossing the floor briskly, bright hair and bright work dress a spot of colour in the sedate surroundings. She always walked quickly, as though she were heading someplace very important.

"Her name is Joan," Dawn said.

"What?" Lane asked, not because he hadn’t heard her, but because he was embarrassed that his interest was so obvious.

Dawn smiled. “Joan Harris. She comes in on the odd Saturday - I think when her little boy is with her mother. We talk when it’s slow.”

"Isn’t it always?"

Their library wasn’t the largest or best stocked that New York had to offer. Perhaps Ms. Harris liked the quiet.

"I could introduce you," Dawn said. "Joan is divorced, like you." She was spinning her engagement ring slowly around her finger. He had met her fiance once. Nice chap, a bit strange. Looked like he picked out his clothes with a blindfold on. Since getting engaged she had turned into something of a matchmaker as well. Lane could remember that stage of life - being young and in love and all seeming possible.

It had been lovely, but it was a long time ago.

"No, thank you," Lane said. He gave her his sternest look, which worked about as well as it ever did. "I’ll not have you interfering."

Dawn shrugged. “Let me know if you change your mind.” She took herself off to reshelve some books.

Lane looked at Joan - Ms. Harris - with what even he could admit was a trace of wistfulness. She was a beautiful woman. But he supposed she got this kind of attention all the time, and from men more exciting than a middle-aged librarian at that.

 

The first time they spoke he was checking out her books for her. Dawn had made herself scarce in a way that he suspected was deliberate. Ms. Harris was wearing reading eyeglasses that were very fetching on her. Her hair was coming loose from its chignon and he wondered if he should point it out.

He turned his attention to the books instead. A couple reading primers for a small child, a romance novel of the spicier variety, and a financial textbook.

He gave her a quizzical look and she met it full force with a glare.

"Yes?" she said, frostbite in her voice.

"I had this one in school," he said quickly, "It isn’t the newest. Would you let me suggest another?"

That seemed to pacify her. “Oh,” she said. “If you’d like.”

She accepted his suggestion - it had only just arrived, cover shiny and uncreased. “Do you work in finance?” he asked. It wasn’t likely that it was a hobby.

"Accounts," she said, putting her glasses and the books into her bag. "Recently promoted."

"Congratulations," he said warmly, and he was honest enough to acknowledge that his heart skipped a beat when she smiled at him.

 

"Why didn’t you make a career of this?" she asked, when they were discussing the contents of her latest economics tome. She had moved past that first beginners manual very quickly.

"I did," he told her, "once upon a time. But I found the business wasn’t very good for me." He shrugged, self depreciating. "I didn’t have the constitution for it."

"That’s not a bad thing," she said dryly. "I wouldn’t mind working in a place like this."

He couldn’t imagine her a librarian. It was too solitary, with nowhere for that sparkle of hers to go. “It has its high points.”

"Less drinking, I would guess."

"Less," he agreed, "but not none."

She laughed, and it was as bold and brilliant as the rest of her.

 

"You blush like a schoolboy when you’re around her," said Dawn. "You’re doing it _right now_.”

"That is enough," Lane demanded. "This isn’t a bloody primary school - what are you planning, to pass her a note? Do you fancy Lane, check yes or no?"

"I was going to be more subtle than that," Dawn huffed. "But I won’t do anything, since you won’t let me."

He did want to see Joan outside of work, and had thought about asking her out for a drink a thousand times. Perhaps dinner and a film. He wanted to know how she took her tea, if she preferred comedy or drama.

But the timing - it was just never right.

 

He got a reprieve when Dawn left for her honeymoon, though he did have to cover her Saturday shift. They usually got a rush of children in the morning, but the first Saturday she was gone it was terribly rainy and reading hour was canceled. Lane busied himself tidying the empty library. He liked having time by himself, and he was humming when the first visitor arrived at about noon.

It was Joan, brandishing a turned out umbrella and dressed in a thick jumper and a green raincoat. Her hair was blown to madness by the wind and she was shivering.

One wet heel skidded across the floor; he got there in time to catch her by the shoulders and keep her from toppling over.

"Whoops," he said, feeling incredibly awkward. They were very close - he could see the raindrops in her hair, how soft and pink her lips were -

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, and kissed him, simple as that.

 

 


End file.
